


may you bloom forever more

by almosthello



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Game Spoilers, Hanahaki AU, Illustrated, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almosthello/pseuds/almosthello
Summary: One night Mikleo coughs out his first petal, the color similar to the feathers he had strapped on Sorey’s ears once upon a time, and the only thing he can think of isof course.The Hanahaki AU none of you been waiting for.





	may you bloom forever more

**Author's Note:**

> I have been craving for a Hanahaki AU since the first weeks I got into the fandom and since (to my knowledge) no one's doing it, I figured I should attempt it myself.
> 
> Please excuse errors since English is not my first language and I don't have any beta sidekick.

Mikleo loves his best friend. It’s a simple thing that he’d always known even before he puts a name into his feelings; the kind of warmth that spreads through the entire of his being whenever Sorey stares at him and only see him. They had always been together to the point that Mikleo can’t imagine a life without his best friend by his side, without his ever so familiar fingers between his own. He had always been in love with Sorey his entire life – and he knows he’s going to spend the rest just the same.

 

-

 

The day Sorey meets another human, Mikleo locks himself in his room. Something in his chest burns. It’s nothing like he’s ever felt before; it feels heavy, it feels suffocating. It feels like he’s _sinking_ , the sensation similar to that one time he tries to breathe underwater, and yet his throat so rough and dry. It feels three times worse than the time he caught Sorey’s pleading eyes and knew, knew it’s the time Gramps had warned him about years ago. And the burn only intensifies when he remembers how the human – the girl – had smiled, and Sorey returned it with his own.

A hard cough pulls him back from his memory. _Calm down_ , he tells himself, before shifting into a plea when his chest feels none but heavier. _I can’t let Gramps find out_ , he then decides, and so he tucks himself under the cover of his blanket hoping that it would make him invisible. And that it would somehow stop.

 

-

 

(Eventually it does. That night he coughs out his first petal, the color similar to the feathers he had strapped on Sorey’s ears once upon a time, and the only thing he can think of is _of course_.)

 

-

 

He’d read about the strange disease before, and spent said afternoon laughing with Sorey at the sheer ridiculousness of coughing flowers in the name of love while throwing random guesses about which kind of flower they would have should it happen to them.

Well Mikleo’s the least thankful he isn’t coughing angel’s trumpet like Sorey had predicted, though if he could choose, he’d rather not experience the whole thing altogether.

 

-

 

Here are what Mikleo learned about his unique illness so far:

One, it doesn’t happen often. In fact, it happens only when certain things –fine, when _jealousy_ occurs. But thankfully, thankfully, Mikleo has managed to school his feelings better.

Two, no one else seems to know about it so far, which is great.

Three, the petals don’t rot, and further studies find they would only rot when the feelings die. And,

Four, the only way to cure it seems to be by getting his love requited.

 

-

 

Contrary to his original expectations, their journey is filled with joy and excitement, fueled with the satisfaction that they _are_ helping the people in need. Soon the entire Glenwood has heard of the Shepherd, and their arrivals in towns are now marked with celebrations and welcome parties that has Edna nitpicking the offerings, Lailah doubling her silliest puns, and Dezel trying to hold Rose from taking too many advantage of the people trying to worship the Shepherd, while said Shepherd would eye everything with the excitement of a five years old.

And Mikleo welcomes the change. It feels like traveling with one’s family, which makes it hard to remember why he was against it in the first place. He's definitely getting used to the new life alright, even though the most important thing stays the same: that no matter how many things had changed – no matter how far they go, or how many people they met, at the end of the day it’s always his hand that Sorey’s would seek.

Just like old time.

 

-

 

He’s entirely forgotten about his illness that he had to excuse himself into Sorey the moment they’re all off the gate of Lastonbell and went their own separate ways into exploring the city. It was a light joke, one that even managed to pull even the slightest smile from Edna’s lips because for all his innocence, Sorey’s ability to lie is such an atrocious that it’s a wonder how did Sergei let him and Rose off as man and his wife. It was all in good fun, and even Rose can’t help but made fun of the whole thing once again before leaving for a short trip to check on her Sparrows, and yet the stupid itch in his throat just won’t go away.

Mikleo can hear Sorey asking him concerned questions from above, he can even sense Sorey’s worried thought washing over him in steady, warm waves, but he’s too busy clamping his hand over his mouth trying to stop the feeling of vomiting, and along the thoughts that induced it –

Because it’s happening; sooner or later Sorey would find a maiden who can woo him off his feet, and then it’d be marriage, and kids – something that Mikleo would never be a part of – and then Sorey would move on. Sorey would leave. Sorey would forget about him. _Sorey would die_. And Mikleo would be left with nothing but memories and dreams and petals that won’t rot.

He crouches lower and clutches his lips tighter as the familiar burn scratches higher in his throat and threaten the tears off his eyes.

 _Calm down. Calm down. You’re imagining things. Just calm down. Nothing’s changing. Sorey is Sorey. Nothing’s changing at all. Okay,_ fine _, just cough one and it’s all over._

When he opens his eyes again there’s a pair of familiar, over-sized boots just right before him, and Mikleo raises his eyes to a parasol against his head.

 

-

 

Two, correction: apparently Edna had always knew.

Five, it’s called daffodils and it means everything that Sorey is.

 

-

 

Once he dreams that the petals won’t stop pouring out.

There was a beautiful altar in white, and he’s crouching on all four against the stairs below it as he coughed petals after petals. He can see Sorey from the corner of his eyes, but strangely enough his friend stayed still even when Mikleo was flooding the floor sunset with flowers from his lips. Gripping his fists, he tried to call for Sorey a dozen of times, yet nothing but daffodils spilling still. And then he heard the high priest called for a name – a woman’s name – and Mikleo wakes with sweats dripping from his face, his chest heavy with breaths that just won’t calm.

He can’t decide whether or not it’s a nightmare (or whether or not it’s the inevitable future waiting for him at the end of their journey) but strangely enough he feels at peace.

_It’s such a beautiful way to die._

 

-

 

Mikleo wants to be selfish. It’s their _last_ night, and it feels just like one of those scenes straight out of romance novels – when the protagonist and the love of his life would confess their feelings to each other and kiss under the sky full of stars. The words are right there on his tongue, the petal clasped tightly in his fist, but it doesn’t feel right. Sorey is carrying the burden of the world on his shoulders, and it would be nothing but cruel if he adds on that. His friend needs all the support he can get, and if that means to put on a big smile and bury his feelings and tell him yes, _I would wait_ then so be it.

Sorey jokes he’d get back even if he dies trying.

Mikleo smiles and silently vows he’d take his feelings beyond.

 

-

 

The first years after Sorey went to slumber were the hardest; he kept thinking about Sorey not waking up ever, or if he’s waking up and he’s not there, if Sorey wakes up and thinks he’s changed, or if Sorey wakes up and _Mikleo_ finds him changed –

_If Sorey wakes up and finds someone else._

 

-

 

One morning finds Mikleo waking up in an empty bar against a table with Zaveid looming over him; a mug of steaming coffee on his hand, his voice oddly different when he tells him, “It wasn’t what I expected when I took Edna’s dare to get Glenwood’s most famous water seraph drunk.” before gesturing to the orange petals on his left. Mikleo opens his mouth to retort, but his friend only thrusts his other hand forward and the words left.

The white heather feels out of place in Zaveid’s palm, and yet it feels like it belongs to him all the same. Mikleo wants to ask questions, but in the end he decides it doesn’t matter.

He does, however, thank the man for his company as he accepts the warm drink, and no, this is the last time it’s going to happen.

 

-

 

His journey leads him to various places; various ruins and tombs and churches and catacombs, and along to many people from all around, every ages old and young.

He learns that some people grew out of love and some stays, learns that the petals are somehow unique to every single person. He learns that sometimes the flower’s meaning promises how the love would unveil, and sometimes it means nothing but simply adoration.

He also learns that a village in the far south east of Glenwood sees his petals as a wish for a loved one to return home.

 

-

 

One of his curiosities leads him to step into Rayfalke Spiritcrest and into the mercy of an old friend. Edna might not be the best teacher there ever was, but she is willing to tell. She never bothers to ask about whys, though Mikleo can tell she’s being more careful with her words; there are no sharp teases during their so-called ‘lessons’, although still the good old ‘Meebo’ sticks.

It takes Mikleo months before he’s able to differentiates hibiscuses by glance, and a few more until he can memorize each flower’s meanings by heart. And when he finally returns back to his–to _Sorey’s_ house a few years later, he finds all kinds of daffodils blooming around the house, and traces of Edna’s blessings on the porch.

He smiles and thinks he’ll bake her something sweet for the next time he drops by to visit.

 

-

 

Mikleo hasn’t cough a single petal for decades – or is it centuries? He’d lost count. The world keeps on changing, and so does the people inside and, whether he likes it or not, the memories too. Nothing seems constant anymore, and sometimes he wonders if it’s real;

If one time, long, long ago, there exists someone he loves so much he’d give everything to be with. Someone who means more than the world for him. Someone who sees him with such kindness in his eyes; who once sneaked into his bed late at night to tell him he couldn’t sleep unless he hold his hand, and how it means everything to him – so much that he spent that one night just staring at the person's sleeping face until morning.

If one day said person would keep his promise, and return home to him once more.

 

-

 

He remembers he used to think about how unfortunate it is that the flowers would never rot, that it would serve as nothing but a cruel reminder that haunts him for as long as he lives, even after his friend had long gone. But the ages old him now sees them as a blessing, because they’re proof that it happened; that he had fallen in love with his best friend, and will still do until the very end.

So one day Mikleo tucks all of his petals inside the first journal he wrote, which is also the only journal he’s written while he’s still coughing the petals up, and hopes that they would stay the same. That even if millenniums were to pass he would be able to come back and see the petals still identical to the feathers Sorey carries with him.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Sorey loves his best friend. It’s a simple thing that he’d always known even before he puts a name into his feelings; the kind of warmth that spreads through the entire of his being whenever Mikleo stares at him and only see him. They had always been together to the point that Sorey can’t imagine a life without his best friend by his side, without his ever so familiar fingers between his own. He had always been in love with Mikleo his entire life – and he knows he’s going to spend the rest just the same.

 

-

 

The first time he meets another human, Sorey can’t contain his excitement. He can’t put a number on how many times he spent lying on his back flipping pages after pages of the beings that’s just like him, and now by some chance or destiny or whatever, there’s finally one living and breathing before his very eyes. He can sense Mikleo’s uneasiness from the very first glance but he’s so hungry for answers, so thirsty for the world beyond Aroundight that it shoves everything else aside.

There’s a small guilt that scratches at his chest after he easily lets Mikleo off when he tells him he needs some time alone, but Alisha would be long on her way before the next time the sun sets, and Sorey still had questions he can’t even think where to start with.

It’s okay, he decides a few hours into the night later on, Mikleo probably had something else Gramps told him to do. He can always ask him again tomorrow. It’s not like he’s going anywhere.

 

-

 

Funny how exactly the next morning he decides just against that.

 

-

 

(He didn’t. Well, he left Elysia, but Mikleo caught up to him like he always does, and Sorey had a hard time trying to not look so happy when he finds out that he did.)

 

-

 

It like one epic tale in the making: him, the Shepherd, and his best friend the trusty Sub-Lord, along with their gang of friends fighting malevolence and bringing peace back to the land. They’re travelling the world and it’s like he’s finally living the dream life the child him had always wanted; every day’s filled with new towns, new people, new meals, new ruins, _new adventures_ , and it excites him to the point he can’t think of anything else other than this is how he wants to live forever.

He tells Mikleo about it one night when they’re about to call it a day, when he had his fingers safely laced between his friend's paler ones, and Mikleo only smiles prettily as usual, before telling him, “Yeah, it’s not too bad.”

Sorey thinks he might be the happiest man alive.

 

-

 

But sometimes Sorey wants to be selfish, because despite the adrenaline and the excitements that leaves his body well spent at the end of the day, there are also times when he feels like running away from all of these responsibilities – so many times when he wants to just grab Mikleo’s hand and run back to Elysia, where Gramps and everyone would surely be waiting with hands folded before their chest, another lecture for being late for dinner all set. This night, especially, feels like the point of no return, and a voice in his head tells him it’s now or never.

But people can’t live in dreams, he tells himself as he stares at his ever so beautiful friend. Mikleo looks ethereal under the starry sky, so close and so far at the same time. He’s been through a lot for him and Sorey can’t possibly ask more; for him to wait for how many ages to come.

But Mikleo too has always been a constant in his life, someone he knows would always be there whenever he turns his head. The voice of reason; one that can give him the strength to move mountains if he wishes it to be. And so when his friend says the word yes, Sorey knows his road is set, knows he can’t have any doubt even if he wills himself to.

 

-

 

The last thing he remembers before falling asleep is the feel of Mikleo’s wrist bumping against his, and a vow to return even if he dies trying.

 

-

 

Truth be told it doesn’t feel like sleeping at all. It feels like closing one’s eyes, yet awake at the same time. Time no longer exists in this realm; everything feels so fast and yet so slow that Sorey doesn’t know how many days– how many years have passed.

What he knows, however, is that he’s doing what’s right. And that’s all that keeps him going.

 

-

 

When he wakes up, the world had changed: there are cities and buildings towering all around, machines and technologies he doesn’t think he’d ever catch up on. Hell, even he himself had changed, no longer is his soul trapped in what they say his old, dying mortal body, and instead is now roaming freely in this new one that promises nothing but an endless lifetime, complete with the sparks of thunderous mana buzzing through his veins. He imagines the old time him running forward with all the excitement in his eyes, desire of explorations and so much more burning on, but what he did instead is this;

He turns to his side and brushes his shoulder against his friend, and tries not to grin when Mikleo returns his smile with his own, all red-eyed and still the prettiest being he’s ever laid his eyes on, as he pushes against him back.

 

-

 

It’s funny when it doesn’t feel like he’s left at all, even when the world around him screams so. The sky stays the same, Elysia seems the same, his house smells the same, and so is the way Mikleo would squeal whenever he thrusts his fingers against his ribs. His best friend had apologized for making his house his own when he’s gone, but Sorey can’t think of a better decision.

He watches as Mikleo busies himself in the small kitchen – the only change he made to his house – the sound of knife tapping against the chopping board somehow making his home feels more like a home, and decides he can definitely spend his eternity this way.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

There is a conflict brewing in the North, and the world calls for the Grand Seraph to lend his hand. Sorey had shamelessly put on his best pout the entire day, and yet Mikleo simply wouldn’t budge, always returning to that one time he accidentally set electricity through the entire lake during their first practice session – which is, again, one of his very first tries to control his element, _thank you very much_ – before sighing and telling him, “So no, you’re staying here.” And “No, those puppy eyes won’t work.”

Now Sorey is fully aware that he’s being childish but he really couldn’t help it. As much as he adores spending the rest of his life staring at his best friend under the familiarity of the village he grows up in, he can’t deny there’s still a part of him that craves the adventure. It’s been Maotelus knows how long since he had fully utilized his sword skills and powers, and beside, he’d always have Mikleo to back him up, wouldn’t he?

But the morning when he’s departing, Mikleo had his face between his hands and an unreadable look on his face, and then it dawns on Sorey that more than he wants to keep Glenwood safe from him, Mikleo wants to keep _him_ safe; it’s silently clear in the way he lowers his hands to reach Sorey’s own before grasping them and whispering, “Please.”

So Sorey gives his yes because at the end, honestly, what’s a few weeks compared to the ages his friend had spent for him? He then waves Mikleo goodbye and promises him one last time that he’ll be a good boy.

The last words he gives his friend is, “Don’t miss me while you’re there!” to which Mikleo replies with a relieved smile and a joking, “Why would I?”

 

-

 

Time passes differently when one’s an immortal being. Without Mikleo keeping him in check for human necessities such as meals and sleep, Sorey pretty much ignores them all as he lays on his tummy and reads and reads; his friend had shown him the library before – which is the old Gramps’ house upgraded and now filled to the ceilings with all sorts of journals and encyclopedias – and surely there’s no better time to finish them all but now.

He’d lost count on how many days he’d spend burying his head in adventures that’s not his own, and is really surprised when he finally opens the door again and finds it’s already snowing outside. He thinks Mikleo should be home in a few days, and decides that he’d greet him with a clean house and a warm bed to nest on.

 

-

 

The house had been cleaned and tidied and Sorey had been lying restlessly on the bed for hours. He regrets not keeping track of time but surely it’s been months since his friend left because the snow had started to melt into spring.

_Is Mikleo okay?_

_Is he still alive?_

But of course he is, because more than Sorey trusts his friend’s talents in artes, there’s that indescribable feeling in his chest, one that tells him his friend is still there even when he’s miles away.

He glances at the empty left side of his bed and tries not to think of how much he misses Mikleo.

 

-

 

One noon Sorey finds himself waking up with limbs awkwardly leaning down from the bed, his head on the floor. He knows he must’ve fallen down while sleeping, and is about to curse his sore neck when he notices the boxes beneath his bed. Weird, how could he forget to tackle the things under? Straightening himself properly, he bends down to reach for one and frowns when he didn’t recall owning them. Must be Mikleo’s then.

Now Sorey isn’t one to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, but there’s no helping to his curiosity when it’s triggered. They never kept secrets from each other, and even so, surely it’s nothing really important if Mikleo himself doesn’t seem to even remember having it, judging from the pile of dust sitting on top of the leather finishing. And so Sorey sits himself up as he reaches to tug the strap open, and snickers when he finds what seems to be some of Mikleo’s other logs from his journal collections in the library.

 

-

 

Here are what Sorey learned from his findings:

One. It’s the first volumes from the journals, or to be exact, the manuscript of the published ones he’s read before.

Two. His friend had always have a real talent in writing.

Three. Mikleo is in love. With someone that is not him.

 

-

 

It’s almost cliche how fast it happened; one minute he was excitedly flipping through Mikleo’s neat handwriting and taking in his raw thoughts to his head, and the next moment it feels like the whole world hits a stop as he comes into a conclusion about the strange petals of orange glowing in his hand.

He’s read about this before, the memory taking him back to one afternoon he spent lying on top of Mikleo, pointing at the strange paragraph that explains about this curious illness in which one would cough petals for their beloved. He also recalls Mikleo poking him on the nose at his mention of angel trumpet, before replying with a giant sunflower for his own.

What he doesn’t recall, however, is the fact that his best friend was in love with someone else – and apparently still does, because the petals are still in tact— and he knows next to nothing about it.

Though why would he? A voice tells him as he lays back down on his bed, some of the petals still in his palm. He’s been gone for centuries and a lot can happen in centuries. Hell, he was so caught up with playing hero and saving the world he shouldn’t be surprised if he missed this kind of things.

But no way, there’s just no way there’s someone else. He’s _the_ best friend; the one Mikleo had spent near an eternity waiting for. The only one Mikleo had stayed with all these years after he woke up. The one who knows Mikleo best, down to interpreting the meaning behind the different kind of slightest curls of his brow.

But that can also mean he’s just the best friend and nothing else. Not the most beloved one, and most definitely not an unrequited love because he had always loved Mikleo back.

..but then, does this mean his love is?

There’s a sharp sting in his chest, and suddenly Sorey doesn’t want to hold the petals anymore. It’s a proof of love, but not one for him. It’s for someone else, someone more important for Mikleo. Someone else who had Mikleo fallen head over heels for them for a millennium and still does. _Someone else that is not him._

Is he a replacement then?

He manages to throw the petals away before curling up to clutch his chest and into a fetal position, the strange pain is now an uncomfortable burn and it climbs up and up his throat until it feels nothing but suffocating; he’s struggling to even take a breath.

Is that why Mikleo hasn’t come home yet? Because he met the person he’s in love with?

He tries to block his thoughts but the images keep forming; of Mikleo smiling at another person, of Mikleo holding said other person’s hand, of Mikleo fighting alongside the person and having the time of his life.

No wonder Mikleo said he wouldn’t miss him.

Mikleo, the only constant thing in his life, left him.

Mikleo _left_ him.

The burn in his throat vanishes into a cough and Sorey opens his eyes to find a violet petal in his hand.

 

-

 

Sorey feels pathetic. It’s ridiculous; the bed is littered with pale violet petals, and the pain have long subsided, and yet he can’t find the strength to lift even a limb up. There’s a disturbing joke in his head, one that says that apparently it’s not the malevolence that ends the infamous, seraph-turned Shepherd Sorey, it’s the heartbreak, and it’s caused by none other than one of his own previous Sub-Lords. The world would definitely have a good laugh about it.

For the first time in days a laugh cracked its way through his lips.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

-

 

He wakes up to a pair of warm hands palming his cheeks and a frantic calls of his name, and finds Mikleo leaning above him with both panic and relief on his face.

“Sorey? Oh thank god.. I was so worried when you didn’t answer me when I called your name!”

For a moment Sorey thinks he’s dreaming.

 _How nice_ , he thinks. _He comes home for me_.

“Sorey? Are you listening? Sorey.. what happened – Sorey, look at me!”

He does, and for the first time he realizes that Mikleo is really the only thing he has left. Everything has changed, everyone had moved forward; the technologies, the buildings, the people, _the era_ – hell, even Elysia had a few of major changes that he just can’t keep ignoring. And he’s the only one who’s left behind, the only one who apparently still lives in what they now call The Dark Ages; the only part that’s still not moving forward. Back when he just woke up, there’s a few doubts in his head: what if everything has changed, what if Mikleo had changed, and what if he can’t keep up, but his friend had smiled at him just the same, and put his hands around him the exact way he used to that somehow his brain decided to shut down and embrace him back, never minding how his friend is older and looks almost completely different save from the beautiful violet that are his eyes.

Mikleo is the only one who keeps him grounded in this world. And now to know that his one and only is leaving him–

“Why can’t it be me..?”

“Huh?”

“Why can’t it be me?” he repeats, and hates the way it feels like he’s a child whining, but he just wants to know the reason why; why there’s someone else other than him. Why is it not him? He saved the world, didn't he? He did everything he’s told to, every responsibility his role dictated to, and yet why can’t he have just this one thing?

Mikleo stares at him with a strange look on his face; his friend is searching for something in his eyes. “I’m.. I’m gonna get some help.” he decides a moment later, but all Sorey can think of is he’s leaving, and the familiar burn is back on full force. And then he’s scrambling to put his hand over his lips, only to find one more petal falls down to it.

Ah, no wonder the color so familiar, it’s the exact shade of Mikleo’s eyes.

There is nothing but silence, and Sorey raises his head up to find Mikleo’s eyes fixed on said petal, an unreadable look on his face.

“Wh-” his voice shakes, and Sorey prepares for the worst. “Why– who–?”

There’s probably a thousand ways he can answer the question, but Sorey finds himself answering it in the most straightforward way. “It’s you.” he tells him, because he really doesn’t have anything to lose. “It’s always been you, Mikleo.”

“But Sore–”

“And I’m.. I’m sorry for this. F-for all of these,” he gestures to the chaotic state of the bed, where his and Mikleo’s petals have been scattering all around between journals and scripts. “I didn’t– I didn’t mean to but..” but there’s nothing. He wasn’t supposed to go through the box in the first place, and now they’re in this mess. A small part of him wonders what would happen if only he didn’t go down that rabbit hole, but there’s really no use to think of what ifs, no more saving because the damage has been done.

Mikleo stays very still, and Sorey closes his eyes, waiting for a lecture or five; a whisper of disappointment for breaching people's privacy, or simply Mikleo leaving him alone, but what he receives instead are hands back on his cheeks, and a small bump against his forehead. And Sorey opens his eyes to see Mikleo’s face right in front of him.

“You _dummy_. All these years..” he begins slowly, then shakes his head before reaching down to scoop some of the yellow petals.

“Do you.. do you know what.. these are?”

A mumble, “Your petals.”

“Yes, but.. do you know what they means?”

There’s a selfish part of him that wants to accuse _you’re in love with someone else_ but Sorey finds himself shaking his head and keeps his lips tight.

He hears Mikleo sighs.

“They’re.. daffodils. Edna once told me daffodils means ‘you’re the only one’..” he pauses, and Sorey lowers his head, feeling the now-familiar burn inside his chest starting to grow aflame again.

“She said it means ’regards’ and ‘warmth’ and ‘the sun is always shining when I’m with you’. She also told me it’s so cliche because.. well because _it is_ , I mean–”

There’s another long silence, one that Sorey really can’t figure where it’s heading. Somewhere in the corner of his heart, there’s a small hope taking place; a small _what if_ that he refuses to give more room to grow because he doesn't want to hope – because there’s just no way it’s going to happen.

“But you know..” Mikleo begins again, and Sorey raises his head to let him know he’s listening, only to stop when he finds those eyes glistening with unshed tears. The instinct kicks in, and Sorey reaches forward to hold Mikleo’s hand. He’s about to open his mouth and ask why but his friend beats him to it,

“They.. they also means a prayer; they – _return home to me_ – and I.. Sorey, I’ve..” He can tell Mikleo is growing nervous by words, and normally Sorey would just lean closer and maybe put a hand on his shoulder while he tells him how things are going to be just fine, but for some reason he can only stay very still as his friend starts lacing their fingers together.

“I’ve been waiting for you.. for so.. long.”

Here is his best friend sitting before him, staring at him with the most gentle eyes and the most wonderful smile he’s ever blessed to see. Here is his beloved holding his hand in his, the words still ringing in his ears, each syllables clear in his memory, and yet Sorey can’t find a single word to utter. There’s only one conclusion in his head –and boy, does his heart ready to sing it out– but for whatever reason he didn’t dare to make it one.

“Sorey?” a call of his name pulls him back from his mustering, and when he still can seem to do nothing but staring, Mikleo, who have gotten his composure back, leans forward and gazes up to him. And then Sorey swears it feels like everything is happening in slow motion when Mikleo finally tells him, “I’m in love with you.”

The next thing he knows he’s kissing him; Mikleo’s lips against his own, his scent surrounding him. Sorey can somewhat tell his friend is trying to release his hand from his grasp and he lets them off only to feel said hands now caressing his cheeks, then trail down to his neck, before finally settling on the back of his head as Mikleo pushes closer against him. There’s too much – everything is too much, and yet not enough at the same time because Sorey hears himself giving a small disappointed grunt when Mikleo pulls back to catch his breath, even though he can feel his lung thanking him for that decision.

But he doesn’t have to ponder in disappointment for long because in a blink Mikleo is back on him, all over him; he barely has a second to decide where his hands should go before Mikleo’s lips are back on his, his slightly smaller body squirming closer until he’s pretty much straddling Sorey on his hips.

He loses track on how long they’re all over each other but when his sense is finally back on him, Sorey finds their position has been reversed; himself hovering over Mikleo on his bed, catching his breath as he traces the silver blue hairline near his ear. And Mikleo is staring at him with such a gorgeous smile and nothing but love in his eyes, and it squeezes Sorey’s heart so much he can’t help but lean down to kiss each of them before directing his lips back to Mikleo’s when he hears a giggle asking him, “What are you doing?”

Sorey thinks he can spend forever appreciating Mikleo like this, forever worshipping him like this. His heart’s echoing Mikleo’s name with every beat and he wants nothing but to just drown in the moment; to drown in the happiness of knowing Mikleo loves him back. It feels like free falling, but grounded at the same time. He buries his nose into his cheek as he breathes Mikleo’s name and he can feel the grip on the front of his shirt tightened.

But then there’s a pull. Mikleo is trying to pull back to talk, but the childish part in him decides against letting him go and instead chases his lips down whenever Mikleo barely starts the first syllable of his name;

“So–.. _mmmff_ – Sor–.. _mmpff_ – Sorey I–”

Amused, he thinks Mikleo can’t really put all the blame on him because as much as he struggles against it, he always ends up kissing him back. And their small game of chase lasts for about five minutes until Mikleo sternly puts his hands against his chest and pushes him back to create a proper space between them.

“Sorey.” he begins warningly, trying to look threateningly unamused but obviously failing, and it takes all in Sorey not to dive down and kiss him again.

“Hmm?”

“You.. you haven’t.. you haven't give me.. your answer.”

“Huh?”

Mikleo brings his hand up over his lips as he looks away and blushes, and for a moment Sorey is thrown aback over how similar he looks to the teenage Mikleo back then.

“..love.. mmm..?”

“What?” Sorey asks as he lowers his head and tries to catch his friend’s mumble, to which Mikleo responds by turning his head further away into the pillow.

“Mmm... you.. love.. mmm..”

“I can’t hear you, Mikleo.”

Mikleo returns his gaze to him and Sorey can’t help but chuckle at the weak glare he’s trying to show.

“I mean it, though, I really can’t hear you.” he says as he tries to tug Mikleo’s hand away from his mouth, only to play-frown when he meets resistance. “How can I answer when I don’t even know what you’re asking for?”

For the first time his friend seems to really consider the remark, and Sorey grins when Mikleo lowers his hand, then starts speaking even when he somehow still refuses to catch his eyes.

“You n-never answer me back, so.. do you.. do you.. love.. me..” he ends the question like a thought, and it leaves Sorey stunned at the realization: being that they had spent probably the last half an hour making out on his bed and somehow he had managed to miss that one important detail.

He needs to fix it pronto.

Wriggling to position himself better so he didn’t push too much of his weight on his most precious one, Sorey clears his throat to catch Mikleo’s attention. And when those beautiful, beautiful eyes are finally back on his own, Sorey dips down until there’s barely an inch between their face; so close that Mikleo’s breath ghosts over his lips.

“I love you.” he says, then kisses him once. “I love you so much.” he says again, then drops another kiss. “I love you so much, Mikleo.” and another. “I’ve always loved you.” then another. “All these time–” and another, “All these time I always do.” then another. “And I’ll always–” then another. “–always love you.” And he keeps doing that – confesses his love and seals it with a kiss, until Mikleo begs him to stop with eyes squeezed closed and cheeks flaming in embarrassment, which, sadly, Sorey can’t help but ignore in favor to shower him more words of praises and dedications and everything that can hopefully translates to how much he loves him.

“I really love you.”

“Sorey–” he whines, but Sorey simply shakes his head and chases his lips again, and Mikleo finally gives up and laughs with him, his hand finding its way to tug over his neck to pull their bodies impossibly closer. And Sorey can only complies, shifting his body lower as he starts to direct his kisses towards Mikleo’s ears before trailing down to his neck.

He can already tell he’s going to spend the rest of his life worshipping his best frie– his lover, but honestly, Sorey really can’t think of anything better to devote his new eternal life for.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

“Mikleoooo..”

“Yes, Sorey?”

A whine. “I’m lonelyyyy..!”

A tired huff. “I’m ten feet away from you.”

“But I’m lonely.” a few taps against the pillow. “The bed is lonely too!”

Another huff. “It waited months, it can survive for another 10 minutes until I got these done.”

“But this is different!” When Mikleo deliberately ignores him, Sorey pushes himself off their bed and makes his way to the kitchen counter, a pout all set with a determination to bring Mikleo back to bed even if he has to throw him over his shoulder, but when his eyes catch the vegetables and meats scattering around in small bowls, combined with the familiar smell of comfort food in the making, his stomach traitorously growls.

“That’s what you get for not eating for months.”

Okay, yeah, food is important, but Mikleo had been away for what seems like forever, and as much as he wants to stuff his tummy to the brim, Mikleo’s full attention is easily the number one on the craving list.

“I can’t help it.” he tries to bargain. “But I really, _really_ miss you.”

Mikleo rolls his eyes. “It’s only, what, half a year, isn’t it?”

“But it feels like forever!” Sorey whines again, his hands trying to reach forward to circle Mikleo’s hips only to back down when he gets swatted away with a warning that, “I’m cooking, Sorey.”

“What were you doing anyway?” he tries again, this time just settling his palms on Mikleo’s hips, and smiling proudly to himself when his lover lets him be. “How’s the trouble.. thing..?”

“Honestly it’s nothing big, just one of those rather large-scaled wars that breeds malevolence –they always happen once every twenty years or something– and I think they’re all just exaggerating because we were actually done before the first two-three months or something–”

“Huh? Then why didn’t you–”

“ _But_ Zaveid was there,” Mikleo huffs again as he reaches for a leek, eyeing it for a moment before chopping one end to discard the root away. “And basically he, and Edna, and _Lailah_ of all people, made a bet that I wouldn’t be able to last a few months without seeing you.”

“Are you telling me..”

“So I stayed away for a few extra months,” he finishes as he compiles the newly chopped leeks into a single bowl. “Marlind Library always needs an extra pair of hands anyway.”

“That’s so mean!” Sorey protests, and tries to make his point across by stealing some of the carrots Mikleo had julienned and set aside into his mouth in revenge, which prompts Mikleo to poke his cheek while muttering how this is why he doesn’t want him anywhere near when he’s preparing meals.

“I can’t believe you let me live through that torture!”

“To be fair, you let me wait longer.”

That stops Sorey mid-munching. “Well..”

Mikleo has just finished dumping everything into the pot, and he finally turns his body back to fully face his boyfriend. Sorey looks like a kid being caught red-handed in mischiefs, his expression a mixture between guilt and regret, and it tugs on Mikleo’s heart so much that he pulls himself closer to tiptoe a small kiss on Sorey’s forehead.

“It’s necessary. You can’t help it.” he concludes slowly, before lifting Sorey’s chin up with a tap so that the beautiful green he always admires would focus back on him. “Besides, I really didn’t mind waiting.”

“But I left you alone for so long–”

“ _But_ you’re here now and it’s all that matters.” and Mikleo kisses him once again to let him know it’s final; he’s made up his mind and there’s nothing that can change that. He can feel Sorey’s body relaxing against his, and he lets him nibbles on his lips for a few more time before pulling back to lean against the counter, arms folded before his chest.

“..though, if I can choose I’d prefer if you’d told me about your feelings before that.” he tries to joke. “You could’ve saved me a few petals.”

His best friend turned lover scratches the back of his head in embarrassment, “Well, I.. I just can’t believe – I didn’t think you’d love me back?”

“I can’t believe it myself.” Mikleo sighs dramatically, one hand over his chest in a show of exaggerated disbelief. “Of all the people to fall in love with.”

It leads Sorey to protest, his playful mood returning full speed. “ _Heeey!_ You should consider yourself lucky, there’s no one else in the world like me!” he ends it with a toothy grin, hands rising to finally fully circle Mikleo’s waist and tug him flush against his body.

“No one as whiny and noisy as you, yes.” Mikleo agrees as he lets himself settles against Sorey’s slightly larger frame, the familiar warmth sings nothing but _home_.

“But you love me.” Sorey smiles.

“That, sadly, I do.” he concludes with a relentful tone, even though his smile mirrors Sorey’s own. “You know, maybe there’s a mistake there somewhere. Maybe I should’ve coughed angel’s trumpet because you really are loud and can’t seem to shut your mouth up.”

“Yeah and maybe I should’ve coughed sunflowers instead because you’re so beautiful I really can’t take my eyes away from you.”

That earns him a few surprised blinks and a pair of reddened cheeks. “H-hey! You’re supposed to top that with an insult or something!” Mikleo tries to hide his embarrassment with a hit against his chest, but Sorey just laughs and buries his head into his neck, surrounding himself with the familiarity of Mikleo.

 _This is it,_ he decides as he squeezes Mikleo’s body tighter, the sound of the bubbling pot and Mikleo half-hearted complains filling the background. This is his home, and it’s where he’ll settle forever.

On the windowsill, a vase of daffodils and anemones bloom prettily under the bright blue sky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Flower meaning for reference;  
> Orange Daffodils: the only one (Western); unrequited love, return home to me (Japanese)  
> Purple Anemone: protection (Western); abandonment, I will faithfully wait for you (Japanese)  
> White Heather: luck/protection, fulfillment of a wish (Western); independence, to go on a journey (Japanese)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and oh I'd love to know what you think!


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